CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE "WOLVERINE" PUTS OUT TO SEA.

With the exception of the _Sunbeam_, probably no more handsome steam yacht ever left Southampton Harbour than the _Wolverine_. She was all that a sailor's fancy could paint.

Quite a crowd of people were on the quay to witness her departure on her very long and venturesome cruise. Venturesome for this reason, that, though rigged as a steam barque, she was but little over four hundred tons register.

Seamen on shore, as they glanced at her from stem to stem, alow and aloft, criticised her freely. But Jack's opinion was on the whole well embodied in a sentence spoken by a man-o'-wars-man, as he hitched up his nether garments and turned his quid in his mouth:

"My eyes, Bill and Elizabeth Martin, she is a natty little craft! I've been trying to find a flaw in her, or a hole, so to speak, but there's ne'er a one, Bill--above water, anyhow. Without the steam she reminds me of the old Aberdeen clippers. Look at her bilge, her lines, her bows, her jibboom, with its smart and business-like curve. Ah, Bill, how different to sail in a yacht like that from living cooped up in a blooming iron tank, as we are in our newest-fashioned man-o'-war teakettles! Heigho! Blowed if I wouldn't like to go on board of her! Why, here is the doctor--splendid young fellow!--coming along the pier now. I'll overhaul him and hail him. Come on, Bill!"

Reginald Grahame was coming somewhat slowly towards them. It was just a day or two before the discovery of Craig Nicol's murder and the finding of his body in the wood.

Reginald was thinking of Bilberry Hall and Annie o' the Banks o' Dee. Sorrow was depicted in every lineament of his handsome but mobile and somewhat nervous countenance. Was he thinking also of the cold, stiff body of his quondam friend Craig, hidden there under the dark spruce trees, the tell-tale knife beside him? Who can say what the innermost workings of his mind were? Some of the most bloodthirsty pirates of old were the handsomest men that ever trod the deck of a ship. We can judge no man's heart from his countenance. And no woman's either. There be she-devils who bear the sweet and winning features of saints. Our Scottish Queen Mary was beautiful, and as graceful as beautiful.

"If to her share some human errors fall, Look in her face, and you'll forget them all."

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir," said Jack, touching his hat and scraping a bit, like a horse with a loose shoe, "we're only just two blooming bluejackets, but we've been a-admiring of your craft--outside like. D'ye think, sir, they'd let us on board for a squint?"

"Come with me, my lads. I'll take you on board."

Next minute, in company with Reginald--who was now called _Dr._-- Grahame, they were walking the ivory-white decks. Those two honest man-o'-war sailors were delighted beyond measure with all they saw.

"Why," said Jack--he was chief spokesman, for Bill was mute--"why, doctor, you have _sailors_ on board!--and mind you, sir, you don't find real sailors nowadays anywhere else except in the merchant service. We bluejackets are just like our ships--fighting machines. We ain't hearts of oak any longer, sir."

"No," said the doctor, "but you are hearts of iron. Ha! here comes the postman, with a letter for me, too. Thank you, postie."

He gave him sixpence, and tore the letter open, his hand shaking somewhat. Yes, it was from Annie. He simply hurriedly scanned it at present, but he heaved a sigh of relief as he placed it in his bosom. Then he rejoined the bluejackets.

"Well, sir, we won't hinder you. I see you've got the Blue Peter up. But never did I see cleaner white decks; every rope's end coiled, too. The capstan itself is a thing o' beauty; all the brasswork looks like gold, all the polished woodwork like ebony; and, blow me, Bill, just look at that binnacle! Blest if it wouldn't be a beautiful ornament for a young lady's boodwar (boudoir)! Well, sir, we wishes you a pleasant, happy voyage and a safe return. God bless you, says Jack, and good-bye."

"Good-bye to you, lads; and when you go to war, may you send the foe to the bottom of the ocean. There,"--he handed Jack a coin as he spoke--"drink _bon voyage_ to us."

"Ah, that will we!"

The sailors once more scraped and bowed, and Reginald hurried below to read Annie's letter. It was just a lover's letter--just such a letter as many of my readers have had in their day--so I need not describe it.

Reginald sat in his little cabin--it was only six feet square--with his elbow leaning on his bunk, his hand under his chin, thinking, thinking, thinking. Then an idea struck him. The skipper of the yacht--called "captain" by courtesy--and Reginald were already the best of friends. Indeed, Dickson--for that was his name--was but six or seven years older than Reginald.

"Rat-tat-tat!" at the captain's door. His cabin was pretty large, and right astern, on what in a frigate would be called "the fighting deck." This cabin was of course right abaft the main saloon, and had a private staircase, or companion, that led to the upper deck.

"Hullo, doctor, my boy!"

"Well, just call me Grahame, _mon ami_."

"If you'll call me Dickson, that'll square it."

"Well, then, Dickson, I'm terribly anxious to get out and away to sea. If not soon, I feel I may run off--back to my lady love. When do we sail for sure?"

The captain got up and tapped the glass.

"Our passengers come on board this afternoon, bag and baggage, and to-morrow morning early we loose off, and steam out to sea--if it be a day on which gulls can fly."

"Thanks, a thousand times. And now I won't hinder you."

"Have a drop of rum before you go, and take a cigar with you."

Reginald's heart needed keeping up, so he did both.

"When I am on the sea," he said, "I shall feel more happy. Ay, but Annie, I never can forget you."

More cheerily now, he walked briskly off to the hotel to meet his patients. There were two, Mr and Mrs Hall, wealthy Americans; besides, there were, as before mentioned, Miss Hall and the child Matty. They were all very glad to see Reginald.

"You are very young," said Mr Hall, offering him a cigar.

"I think," he answered, "I am very fit and fresh, and you will find me very attentive."

"I'm sure of it," said Mrs Hall.

Little Matty took his hand shyly between her own two tiny ones.

"And Matty's su'e too," she said, looking up into his face.

They say that American children are thirteen years of age when born. I know they are precocious, and I like them all the better for it. This child was very winning, very pert and pretty, but less chubby, and more intellectual-looking than most British children. For the life of him Reginald could not help lifting her high above his head and kissing her wee red lips as he lowered her into his arms.

"You and I are going to be good friends always, aren't we?"

"Oh, yes, doc," she answered gaily; "and of torse the dleat (great) big, big dog."

"Yes, and you may ride round the decks on him sometimes."

Matty clapped her hands with joy.

"What a boo'ful moustache you has!" she said.

"You little flatterer!" he replied, as he set her down. "Ah! you have all a woman's wiles."

Everything was on board, and the _Wolverine_ was ready to sail that night. But the captain must go on shore to see his friends and bid them adieu first.

The night closed in early, but the sky was studded with stars, and a three-days'-old moon shone high in the west like a scimitar of gold. This gave Reginald heart. Still, it might blow big guns before morning, and although he sat up pretty late, to be initiated by Mr Hall into the game of poker, he went often to the glass and tapped it. The glass was steadily and moderately high. Reginald turned into his bunk at last, but slept but little, and that little was dream-perturbed.

Early in the morning he was awakened by the roar of steam getting up. His heart leaped for joy. It is at best a wearisome thing, this being idle in harbour before sailing.

But at earliest dawn there was much shouting and giving of orders; the men running fore and aft on deck; other men on shore casting off hawsers. Then the great screw began slowly to churn up the murky water astern. The captain himself was on the bridge, the man at the wheel standing by to obey his slightest command.

And so the _Wolverine_ departed, with many a cheer from the shore--ay, and many a blessing.

As she went out they passed a man-o'-war, in which the captain had many friends. Early as it was, the commander had the band up, and sweetly across the water came the music of that dear old song I myself have often heard, when standing out to sea, "Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye."

By eventide they were standing well down towards the Bay of Biscay, which they would leave on their port quarter. They would merely skirt it, bearing up for Madeira. But a delightful breeze had sprung up; the white sails were set, and she was running before it, right saucily, too, bobbing and curtseying to each rippling wavelet very prettily, as much as to say: "Ah! you dear old sea, we have been together before now. You will never lose your temper with me, will you?" It is well, indeed, that sailors do not know what is before them.

The dinner-hour was seven. Mr and Mrs Hall were seated on chairs on the quarter-deck. Neither was over-well, but Ilda and Reginald were pacing briskly up and down the quarter-deck, chatting pleasantly. I think, though, that Ilda had more to say than he. American girls are born that way.

Wee Matty was making love to Oscar, the splendid and good-natured Newfoundland. Nobody more happy than bonnie Matty, bonnie and gay, for her happiness, indeed, was a species of merry madness. Only no one could have heard her childish, gleesome and silvery laugh without laughing with her.

The bell at last! Reginald took Ilda down below, then hurried on deck to help his patients. Matty and Oscar seemed to come tumbling down.

And so the evening passed away, the stars once more glittering like crystal gems, the great star Sirius shining in ever-changing rays of crimson and blue.

It was indeed a goodly night, and Reginald slept to-night. The incubus Love had fled away.